Silent Tears
by EowynofRohan13
Summary: This is dormant, at the moment, and probably won't update any time soon. The Opera Ghost was real. He lived in the Opera House, he died in the Opera House. Christene was the only one who could hear him. She was the only one who could save him.
1. Prolouge

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.

Chapter 1

Erik wasn't sure which was worse, the emptiness, or the memories. There was days when he existed, an empty shell of a man. Broken. Cold. Alone. He floated underneath the Opera House, barely conscious of the world around him. He was nothing.

Then there were the memories. They would grab him at times, and for days he would be lost in a memory so real, so vivid, he could almost touch it. He'd been a brilliant composer, a performer, an actor. People had flocked from all over to hear his voice. A single verse of his work could move an entire audience to tears. That was before the accident, though. Before his face had been so badly damaged, no one could stand to look at him. Before he'd become a stagehand. He hid in shadows, longed for darkness. He had come to know the entire Opera House like the back of his hand. And even that was Before. Before the real accident. The one that had killed him.


	2. Chapter 1

After our performance was over, I slipped down to the tiny chapel to light a candle for my father. I did this every night, and tonight was no exception. I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer.

There was a noise like a breath of wind from the wall. I whirled around. I thought I'd heard someone whispering- something. _No, you're just imagining things._ I chided myself. But… no, there it was again. A low, melodious whisper, haunting, yet achingly familiar. I turned toward the sound. The voice changed.

"Christine! Christine?" I sighed. _That's only Meg._ I told myself, _The echoes just made her voice sound different._ I wasn't sure if I was relieved, or disappointed. Meg came into the room. "You were perfect, Christine! You made Carlotta look like someone off the street!"

"Thanks."

"I just wish I knew how you did it. Who's your tutor?"

"I don't have a tutor. I've been taking some lessons from your mom, but…"

"Oh, come on, I know that's not true. Who did you bribe?" Meg took a closer look at my face. "Christine, what's wrong?"

"It's a long story." My voice tightened as I tried not to cry.

"What's wrong, Christine?" Meg whispered. I took a deep breath. _I can trust her._

"Wh- when my father died, he told me he'd send me an… an angel. An angel of music to comfort me."

"You think the spirit of your father is coaching you?" Meg sounded worried.

"Who else? Ever since I came here, I've heard him, singing."

"Christine, you must have been dreaming, stories like this can't come true…"

"Yes they can. Meg…" -This was the hard part- "I can see ghosts."

"What?" Meg looked at me as though she expected me to burst out laughing. "Christine, you're talking in riddle, and it's not like you…"

"No, Meg, I'm serious. I can see ghosts. They're with me, even now."

"Your hands are cold."

"All around me."

"Your face, Christine, it's white!"

"It frightens me."

"Don't be frightened." Meg studied my face, worried. "Christine, you can't see ghosts. They don't exist."

I cocked my head, listening to voices only I could hear. "Your father says you're going to be a better dancer than your mother, and that he wishes he could have seen you grow up. He wants to know if you mother told you about the Balcony Accident." Meg burst out laughing.

"Yes. Yes she has. Tell him-" She broke off, her face growing serious. "Christine, if you can really see ghosts, what does my aunt Mildred have to say about me?"

I winced. "You're going to be a no-good ballet dancer like your mother, and never amount to anything, and run off with some stagehand when you're way too young to be married, and-" Meg's face was white. "Sorry. Your Aunt is horribly long-winded, isn't she." I winced, as a torrent of abuses fell upon my ears. "Shut up! I wasn't talking to you!" I pointedly ignored Mildred for a few seconds, and she faded back into the Mists. "Meg-" She gaped at me for a few seconds, then ran. _Great. Either she thinks I'm foul-mouthed and insane, or she's afraid of me._


End file.
